Page 6 of The Problem with Dating

“Is it true he went out with Laura Wilkes last weekend for dinner?” she asked, leaning in closer, still not whispering.

“We like to stay out of our father’s business,” Avery said sternly. “Everyone’s business, for that matter.”

Milly nodded. “Yes, me too. I'm not too fond of gossips. They always have some words on their lips, yet nothing but hot air comes out. Okay, girls, I better get moving before my heart rate drops too much. Just watch out for that Alex Ramírez. Cocaine brownies are a real issue. I’ll write down that YouTube address for you to watch the documentary. Bye-bye!”

“Bye, Milly,” Avery and I said in unison, waving her away.

Avery made a gagging sound once Milly was out of viewpoint.

“So about the bad seed being back in town,” I started. Don’t get me wrong, Nathan wasn’t awful. He was always kind to me and my sisters, too. But he was our town’s bad boy when we were younger. I figured Avery fell for him because of his charm, wit, and filthy tongue.

“Don’t bring him up,” Avery warned.

“Avery…”

Her whole posture tensed up, and she shook her head as she stared at an invisible watch on her wrist. “Well, will you look at that? It’s about time I head to the high school. I have to set up in the gym before practice later today.” Not only was Avery the head coach of the baseball team, but during the school year, she was the head of the physical education department.

She hopped to her feet, which was a clear sign that screamed, “I’m not talking about Nathan Pierce today, Yara.”

I received her message loud and clear, but I knew we’d have to revisit it at some point. Our town was too small to pretend Nathan wouldn’t run into Avery sooner than later.

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you later,” I agreed.

Avery snuggled the three dogs one last time before walking off in the opposite direction of me. Avery hated most people but strongly loved dogs—my kind of girl. People had a way of letting each other down more than dogs ever had.

“Bye, Daddy!” she hollered as she waved across the street.

“Have a good day, girls,” Daddy replied, waving to us both.

As I waved back, the owner, Alex, walked outside. He said something to Daddy and gestured toward the almost hung sign.

I sat straight and tilted my head toward Alex. He dressed in all black and stood with broad shoulders. He had a perfectly trimmed beard and dark brown hair that was somewhat long on top but shaved shorter on the sides. He hovered over Daddy, which was surprising, seeing as how Daddy was almost six-foot-two. The man crossed his arms over his chest and had an intensity in his stare as he listened to Daddy update him on the project. He nodded once before glancing across the street toward me.

Our eyes locked, and instantly, my whole body filled with chills. His stare was direct and cold. Brown eyes packed without a drop of gentleness. It almost felt as if he didn’t see me but was looking through me. I’d never felt so invisible when being stared at. I averted my gaze straightaway, my cheeks heating from the oddity of his stare.

He had what Avery called RDF—resting dick face. A grumpy, hardened facial expression that read unapproachable.

Milly was right about one thing. That man was very dark.

Tall, dark, and handsome, that was.

Everything about him looked delicious—even his harsh gaze.

Alex might be destroying our sweet town with his restaurant, but he looked good while he did so.

CHAPTER3

Alex

In the back closet of a four-bedroom home located in Chicago sat a box of diaries that was not mine. The house echoed with silence while memories were imprinted within the walls from the past years. There were dozens and dozens of journals of all different sizes and styles.

Some were leather casings, others were wood. Some were brightly colored, others dull. Not a page was empty, and no line was spared. The words were jumbled in cursive against the pages. Some were harder to read than others. Yet all the words were hers. All the pages were filled with her heartbeat.

Within those diaries lived the life of my late great-aunt Teresa, a firecracker of a soul.

Within those diaries were her secret triumphs and pains. Her ups and downs.

I sat on the floor of the back closet of the four-bedroom home, combing through said diaries. I should’ve been attending to a million other tasks to get her house ready to be sold over the next few weeks, but those diaries slowed me down.

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